


i'm burning through you

by squash1



Category: Call Down The Hawk - Fandom, Dreamer Trilogy, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Call Down the Hawk Spoilers, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Missing Scene, Non-Explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:09:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22526080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squash1/pseuds/squash1
Summary: Two hours is not a long time to savour the presence of Adam Parrish.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 32
Kudos: 279





	i'm burning through you

**2 hours, 13 minutes**

Two hours is not a long time to savour the presence of Adam Parrish.

It’s barely enough time to take in his physical form, thrifted denim contrasting his tan and the way the old t-shirt rides up when he reaches for the mugs sitting up on the highest shelf. Ronan feels like he has to sit down just to process the mental image of Adam straddling his motorcycle, the roaring beast that has carried him home.

They take a bath, first. Adam is still freezing and badly shaken, although he tries to put on a brave face for Ronan’s sake. It doesn’t work, it never really does – Ronan drags him over to the bathroom, makes him sit on the edge of the tub and tugs off his socks and jeans. The stream from the faucet filling the tub is loud enough for Ronan to know that, with his deaf ear, Adam will have a hard time processing any clumsy attempts of reassurance. So, instead, Ronan just pulls Adam’s shirt over his head, grabs his arm, cotton wool and a bottle of antiseptic and starts cleaning the talon-shaped cuts. At some point, Adam reaches for him with his free hand, laying it on Ronan’s shoulder, just touching. His fingers are cold, icy still from the scrying earlier. Ronan feels a shudder travelling down his spine when Adam’s hand slips under the collar of his sweatshirt, tracing the intricate pattern of where his tattoo curls around the back of his neck.

He’s breathing heavily, Ronan notices. When he looks up at Adam, his eyes are closed and his mouth slightly parted, exhaustion written blatantly in his face.

Still, after all, Adam gets around to taking Ronan’s clothes off. Ronan has just finished applying ointment to the wounds, is leaning away to add some bubble bath (dreamt; mist and moss-scented) to the water, when he feels it. Adam’s hands, both of them now, are travelling under the hem of his sweater, up his back, pushing up, up, off. Ronan knows the feeling, knows this kind of longing all too well; the need to to be one together, to crawl inside and wrap yourself around the other at the same time.

He doesn’t say anything and just lets Adam tug the sweatshirt off over his head. The bathroom has filled with steam by now and it’s warmer than Ronan expected, pleasant even. If he closed his eyes now, this moment would fill his senses almost like Lindenmere: earth and rain and a comforting warmth, a magnetic mouth calling him home.

They kiss for a while, just crouched by the edge of the bath tub, before it gets too much.

“Keep your arm out over the edge,” Ronan says after turning off the faucet. He gets in behind Adam, wrapping his arms around him, merely resting for a couple of moments and letting the water’s warmth soak them both. Adam lets himself relax, letting out all the tension in his body, giving it away for the water to absorb until he is lax in Ronan’s arms, head tilted backwards to rest on Ronan’s shoulder, good arm clutching both of Ronan’s crossed in front of his chest.

After a while, Adam sighs and shifts, sitting to face Ronan with his legs bent over Ronan’s thighs. Ronan moves, too; he sits up in the tub and circles his arms around Adam’s torso again, loosely this time. Water splashes dangerously as they reposition in the water and Adam chuckles under his breath. Ronan looks at him for the first time since he arrived, really properly looks into his eyes.

Adam leans in and grazes Ronan’s face with parted lips. He lifts his hands up to hold Ronan’s face in between, careful to keep his arm out of the water.

“Tamquam…,” he sighs, kissing the word into Ronan’s skin. Ronan feels it, feels the moist heat of Adam’s mouth pressing against his cheek. With a thrill, he remembers that Adam likes him in a bit of stubble and is at once grateful for his own laziness.

“Alter idem,” Ronan replies. He smiles his answer against Adam’s lips, hands roaming Adam’s back and pulling him closer, deepening their kisses.

Just for one blissful moment, Ronan allows himself to pretend that they have all night to do this, endless hours for playfulness and etching themselves into every fibre of each other’s being.

**1 hour, 38 minutes**

“What do you wanna do now?” Ronan asks, coming up to hold Adam from behind as he fills their cups. He’s tracing Adam’s bandaged arm carefully in a gesture that has no purpose, really, except to let Adam know it’s all up to him. Scrying tends to suck all the energy out of him, understandably. This time it was even worse. Adam seems fine now, chipper and calm after letting Ronan clean his wound, letting himself be held. Still, if the scream he let out earlier was anything to go by, the experience was absolutely harrowing.

Adam only hums, leans his back into Ronan’s embrace. “I wanna have coffee,” he says, and Ronan can hear the grin forming around his words. “And food, if you have any.”

Ronan sticks his tongue in Adam’s ear just to hear him laugh out loud (and a little to be an asshole, frankly). “And then?”

With an amused huff, Adam pours them both their coffees, adds a spoonful of sugar for himself and one and a half for Ronan, along with a dash of milk. Ronan tightens his arms around him, squeezes, presses a kiss into the crook of his neck. “Hm?” he hums against the tender skin there. It’s warm and inviting, just like everything about Adam.

Adam laughs for real this time and takes a sip of his coffee before turning around in Ronan’s arms, handing Ronan his own mug.

“Then I want _you_.”

Sometimes, when Adam is this blunt about his desires, when he’s keen on not wasting any time, Ronan challenges him, riles him up further, teases him. He’s well aware that this is a form of play, a practice in pleasure. The thrill of unpredictability, the guessing game of what’s going to be Adam’s next move, is nothing short of exhilarating.

This time, Ronan barely has time to react before Adam leans in to kiss him softly, devoid of any urgency. “Coffee first, though.”

**1 hour, 27 minutes**

They end up putting a frozen pizza in the oven and curling up on the sofa together whilst it bakes. After a couple of minutes of lazily making out, Adam slides his hand under Ronan’s shirt and Ronan is more than relieved to remember that they set the oven timer. He circles his arms around Adam’s narrow shoulders, lets himself be manoeuvred into a reclining position with Adam’s thigh pressed between his with clear intent. Adam kisses him, then, deeply and with his trademark fervour that Ronan loves so much.

He needs to grab something, find something to hold on to as the tidal wave of everything that is Adam overcomes him. Adam’s shirt is the first thing he reaches for, tugging and pulling him closer by it but Adam, ever a man on a mission, can’t be moved. Ronan groans in frustration, and maybe a little out of ecstasy.

Adam smiles against his mouth and then Ronan feels teeth digging into his bottom lip as gentle hands move to cradle the back of his neck. Once again, Ronan is mesmerised by the way Adam’s hands are never anything short of tender. Their callouses are starting to fade but Adam’s touch still makes him feel the same – loved, cared for, precious. There is no way Ronan will ever shake the pleasurable feeling of being known and held with wholehearted intent, and he knows he is going to spend the rest of his life trying to make Adam feel the same way.

It doesn’t take long until their clothes are strewn across the living room floor and they’re writhing on the cough together. As they go on, Ronan finds it increasingly difficult to remember anything past this moment. Nothing really matters when Adam is this close to him, except for maybe Adam’s own wellbeing.

The oven timer chimes then, and Ronan throws his head back, groaning. Adam’s got his teeth dug into a rather sensitive part of his neck and only seems encouraged by the increase in surface area Ronan’s move grants him. It’s easier to stop now than it would have been in the bath earlier, both of them somewhat appeased after pouring their everything into that first reunion.

Still, Adam is making it rather difficult to speak, and the words out of Ronan’s mouth are breathy and carry hardly any vigor at all.

“Parrish. Get off.”

Adam huffs, his breath warm against Ronan’s pulse point. The pressure of his hips deepens for a moment, then lets up completely as something akin to a laugh escapes him. “I’m trying –“

“No, you asshole,” Ronan scoffs but Adam’s quip does make him snicker. “The pizza.”

“Fine,” Adam sighs, lifting himself up off the couch, off Ronan, and stalking into the kitchen. Ronan is very cold all of a sudden, feeling strange in the nude without Adam with him.

Just as he’s about to protest and call for Adam to come back, Ronan hears a quiet “Oh my god…” from the kitchen.

“What?”

“It smells _so_ good.”

Ronan sighs and leans back against the armrest of the couch. The clanging of the cutlery drawer is a horrible sound, too bright and loud and metallic for even Ronan’s seasoned ears. “The hell are you doing?” he calls out. “Come back here, I’m freezing my balls off.”

Adam reappears in the living room, looking like he should be chiselled out of marble and standing in a museum somewhere. He’s holding a thin slice of pizza, though, which kind of ruins Ronan’s mythological deity fantasy.

“So good,” Adam mumbles around a mouthful of Di Giorno’s, and Ronan’s heart swells.

“You didn’t bring me a piece?”

Adam drops back down on the sofa. “Nah. This is just to hold me over.”

**1 hour, 12 minutes**

They share the pizza. It’s not oven-fresh anymore, but it still tastes fine. Ronan wrinkles his nose at the amount of ketchup Adam squeezes onto his plate. Adam laughs at him then and Ronan pulls an even uglier face, just to hear that laugh again. When they kiss, Adam tastes sweet and salty and Ronan shoos him up the stairs, no more time wasted.

**56 minutes**

With them huddled under Ronan’s voluptuous duvet, it’s a lot like one of their very first times; breathing “ _I love you_ ”-s into each other’s mouths, hands roaming, lungs stuttering, blood pressure climbing to new heights. Adam’s hand dips beneath Ronan’s waistband, then. His touch is sweet and careful, but still Ronan feels the graze of fingertips searing his skin. His heart is hammering in his throat, threating to jump out right then and there – and it might as well, he would give anything for Adam.

**47 minutes**

Adam is as close as he can possibly get, and yet Ronan years for him in a strange sort of way. He never thought people actually cried during sex, that all of that was just made up for giggles, for a punchline in a movie. But now, with Adam all around him and that heavy pressure behind his eyelids, Ronan’s not so sure anymore.

The expiration date to their brief reunion is a looming presence, even now when it really shouldn’t bother him, and Ronan isn’t quite sure he can handle it.

**39 minutes**

Afterwards, Adam looks as sad as Ronan feels. He’s curled up next to Ronan, tracing his finger in swirling patterns on Ronan’s chest.

“Was this a bad idea?”

He sounds tired when he asks it, and when Ronan looks down, he sees that Adam’s eyes are closed

“What?”

Adam looks at him, then, and Ronan recognises his own insecurity mirrored on Adam’s face. _Tamquam alter idem_.

“You looked like you were about to –,” Adam starts, but Ronan stops him with a kiss.

“This is gonna sound so cheesy, Parrish, but every second I get to spend with you is the best second of my life.”

“That makes no sense, you can’t…” Adam says, but trails off before he can finish his argument. He sighs, buries his nose in the crook of Ronan’s neck.

“Sure it does.”

Ronan doesn’t elaborate, but Adam seems to be done protesting.

“I’m calling you as soon as my presentation is over tomorrow and we’re gonna brainstorm all the things we wanna do over Thanksgiving.”

“I have a few things in mind…”

“Asshole. No. Things like get Nino’s with you and finally beat your ass at Smash Bros.”

Ronan scoffs at that. No chance in hell is Adam going to win over him at video games. He thinks maybe that’s not the point, though, and so he rolls over and kisses Adam instead.

**13 minutes**

Adam’s got his backpack ready to go, shoves in the can of coke and pretzels Ronan unearthed for him from the very back of the bottom shelf in the pantry, and zips it up. He’s all cleaned up, wearing one of Ronan’s hoodies under his new leather jacket. Ronan edges closer to him, nudges Adam’s sneaker with a socked foot of his own.

“You’re gonna ace that presentation, you know.”

“Yeah,” Adam says, confidence thin but present nevertheless. He turns towards Ronan, loops his arms around his waist, tucks himself into Ronan’s chest. “I worked really hard on it.”

“You always do.”

Ronan kisses the top of his head, then. Adam’s hair is still warm from the blow-dryer, slightly frizzy and laden with static. It tickles Ronan’s nose, but the soapy scent grounds his chest with familiarity.

They stay like this for a while, wrapped up in each other until it’s time for Adam to go.

“Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“No promises.”

Adam pulls back to glare at him and Ronan laughs. “I’ll be fine.”

If they kiss again, Ronan’s not sure he’ll be able to let go, but he cranes his neck down to steal one off Adam’s lips anyway.

“And use your phone,” Adam says when they part.

“You too, shithead.”

Ronan grins weakly, and Adam matches his expression.

“All right, it’s time.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm back! i guess. ish. not really. popping in with a pynch fic.
> 
> this was originally supposed to be e-rated, hence the title. but it didn't feel right and i figured I wanted to focus on the feels. so here we are. i'm a bit unsure about this one, so please be gentle with me.
> 
> the title is from lana del rey's "love song" 
> 
> thanks for reading!


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